


Halloween Party

by balloonstand



Category: Shameless (US)
Genre: Halloween AU, M/M, PWP
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-10-08
Updated: 2014-10-08
Packaged: 2018-02-20 08:56:10
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,061
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2422766
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/balloonstand/pseuds/balloonstand
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Mickey hates cops, but that redhead's hot cop costume is making him rethink his stance on law enforcement.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Halloween Party

**Author's Note:**

> WARNING: brief use a homophobic slur
> 
> Happy Halloween (month)! This is vaguely base on a really hot guy I saw at a Halloween party last year, prompting me to have lovely dreams about hot cops for a few weeks. Thanks, random fake cop.

No one hates cops like Mickey Milkovich hates cops. And cops hate Mickey right back, that’s for fucking sure.

So it’s like cognitive dissonance watching that ginger boy in the hot cop costume wink at him from across the room and swirl his hips provocatively. Or maybe not, Mickey’s not really sure what cognitive dissonance is.

Mandy throws her arm around his shoulder and pulls him into her.

“What are you looking at?”

“Nothing,” he grumbles, trying to shake her off. Doesn’t work. She digs her claw deeper into his arm as she tries to follow his gaze.

“Bullshit, you were totally checking someone out. Who was it?” she asks. “Julie Shanafelt? Alicia What’s-her-name?”

“I don’t know who either of those girls are because I don’t know any-fucking-body here,” Mickey hisses. “Why the fuck did you have to drag me out here?”

“It’s fun,” Mandy says. She sounds distracted so now it’s Mickey’s turn to follow her eyes. She is watching a couple kissing in the back corner. The boy is dressed as a firefighter minus the shirt. He is dragging his fingers up the girl’s fishnet stockings, skimming the hem of her witch’s dress. Mickey looks back at Mandy. She’s biting her lower lip.

“Christ, just go over there,” he tells her.

She punches him on the arm and kisses him on the cheek like it’s one fluid movement. “As long as you go dance with someone.”

She doesn’t stick around to make sure he holds up his side of the deal, but traipses away toward the couple. The short skirt of her Catholic school girl costume sways with her stride. Those two won’t know what hit them.

Mickey loves his sister. Even when she forces him to go to high school Halloween parties where he doesn’t know a single goddamn person. Mandy knows everyone here, of course. She can pretend all she wants to appear disinterested and aloof, but she loves a crowd. She feeds off of the energy. So she makes sure she knows everyone.

Mickey goes to get another drink just to give himself something to do. The table in the kitchen is nearly buckling under the weight of all the booze on it. Most of the bottles are empty, so Mickey ladles the bright red punch into his cup. He’s got too much pride to gag when he takes a sip, but this shit is rancid. Of course this shitty party would have shitty booze. He wonders if anyone will notice him pouring it back into the punch bowl.

“Didn’t anyone warn you not to drink the punch?”

The voice comes from behind him. Mickey spins around to see the speaker. The boy from earlier, the ginger in the hot cop costume is inches away, his presence pinning Mickey against the drinks table. Mickey takes an anxious step away about half a moment too late for it to be a real reflex. The cop doesn’t close the space between them. He leans his hips against the drinks table and smiles at Mickey.

“That shit will mess you up, trust me.”

“Thanks for the tip,” Mickey says through his teeth. “But everything else is gone.”

The cops shrugs in a _can’t argue with that_ kind of way. He shifts his hips against the table, getting more comfortable. The movement draws Mickey’s unwilling eye down the length of the cop’s body. He sees the tightness of the costume, the stretch of the shirt across his broad chest. The smattering of freckles at the top of his thighs is exposed by the short, short shorts that probably barely cover his ass. Mickey drags his eyes back up to the cop’s face. It’s not much better; the cop licks his lips at that moment. His lips are broad and pink.

“Can I fucking help you with something?” Mickey snaps.

“Do you want to dance?”

“ _What the fuck?_ ” Mickey whips his head around to see if anyone heard that. “What the fuck?”

“Is that a no?”

“Fuck off, I’m not a fucking fag,” Mickey spits out at him. He doesn’t grab him by the collar to haul him in and make a threat like he would do for anyone else. He doesn’t touch him. He can’t.

The cop’s eyes glitter. It’s anger, Mickey decides. Good, fuck him. Fuck him for asking Mickey to dance like it’s no big deal. Fuck him for being beautiful. Fuck him too for seeing what Mickey wanted when no one is supposed to see that.

Mickey turns and his heel and stalks away. He has to find Mandy so that he can get the hell out of here. He knows that he’s interrupting and he’ll pay for it later when he grabs her by the forearm and hauls her away from her new friends, but he doesn’t care.

“Mickey, what the fuck?”

“I want to leave, you ready to go?”

“What? No, come on. We just got here.”

“And I’m ready to go,” Mickey says. Some of what he’s feeling must show through, or maybe Mandy just knows him better than he would like anybody to know him, because she looks at his face for a long moment and then sweeps her gaze to the drinks table. Mickey doesn’t follow her gaze this time.

“Did you fight with Ian?” Mandy asks.

“Who?”

“Ian, the redhead cop. I’ve brought him home before, you probably met him already.”

No, he hasn’t. He’d remember. “I wasn’t fighting with anyone. I’m bored and I want to leave.”

Mandy rolls her eyes. “Fine, just give me a minute to say goodbye. Wait here.”

Mickey waits where he’s told, but the minutes crawl past him and Mandy doesn’t come back. After a while, he can’t take it one more minute and decides to wait in the car. He’s in the kitchen. He walks toward the living room and the front door beyond it. The main dance floor is set up in the living room. The whole room is packed with bodies, swaying and grinding on beat. Mickey pushes his way through the crowd, not afraid to elbow people out of his way and step on some toes, literally. He’s halfway across the room when he finds himself coming to a complete halt.

The cop – Ian – is dancing in front of him. He’s dancing with a few people and no one in particular, just letting the throbbing baseline move him. The circles of his hips, his full body roll, the look on his face as he lets himself just enjoy– Mickey is paralyzed. Ian catches him watching. On a slow circle, his body following his hips, he turns until he’s facing Mickey full-on. He freezes. Mickey should leave, should push past this beautiful boy in his dumbass cop costume and get on with his life.

His eyes are caught in Ian’s. Not really knowing what he’s doing, he jerks his head to the staircase leading upstairs where there are probably bedrooms and bathrooms and raises his eyebrows. Ian nods.

His heart pounding, anxiety fighting with arousal in the pit of his stomach, Mickey turns away from Ian for the third time that night. He walks up the stairs and waits for Ian at the top.

About a minute later, Ian climbs into view. Mickey is rooted to the spot as Ian advances. He presses his body against Mickey’s, from chest to groin to knees, all touching Mickey’s chest and groin and knees. He reaches a hand up to grab Mickey’s head, to pull him into a kiss. Mickey jerks back away from all of it. Ian’s face shutters, but he says nothing, just leans away too and watches Mickey.

“Isn’t there a room or some shit where we could do this?” Mickey asks in a whisper.

Ian nods. “We can use my room.”

“Your room? This is your house?”

Ian walks down the hall, throwing Mickey a look over his shoulder as he saunters toward the last door. He opens the door a few inches and looks in. He throws it all the way open and walks in, leaving Mickey standing in the hall. Mickey walks slowly toward Ian’s room. He can’t believe he’s doing this. There’s a hundred ways in which this is a stupid idea, but none of them are important. Not with the door open at the end of the hall. Ian is sitting on his bed. Mickey closes the door behind him and locks it.

He walks toward the bed, pulling his clothes off as he goes. He drops his jacket on the ground and steps out of his shoes. He pulls his shirt over his head and drops that too. He’s undoing his belt when he gets to the bed. Ian raises his hands to help. Their fingers tangle as they work to get rid of the belt and his pants. Their faces are close together so that they are breathing each other’s breaths, but they don’t kiss. Ian lays his hand flat on Mickey's bare chest and it rises and falls with his harsh breaths. Ian moves his fingers across Mickey's torso without ever lifting them away from the touch of his skin. Mickey is almost hypnotized by this, so when Ian puts strength into his caress and pushes Mickey down onto the bed, he falls easily.

Ian climbs over him, one strong thigh on either side of Mickey's hips. He unbuttons his shirt, slowly and teasingly. Mickey shifts restlessly under his weight.

"Just take your damn clothes off already."

Ian smirks and moves even slower. Mickey tries to unbutton Ian's shirt himself, but Ian grabs both of Mickey's hands in one of his and pins them above Mickey's head. Mickey gasps, unable to contain it. Ian lets go of him so he can pull his shirt off, but Mickey keeps his arms where Ian put them. 

Ian begins to roll his hips in small circles, imitating the way he was dancing a few minutes ago. The warm, steady rubbing makes Mickey hard. Ian puts his hands back on Mickey's chest, softly stroking up and down his body, pausing at his nipples to pinch and rub. Mickey opens his mouth in a silent moan and his eyelids droop half-shut. He can hear Ian's breath coming in the same shallow rhythm as his own and that makes him even hotter.

Unconsciously, he tries to spread his legs. He can't really do it with Ian on his lap, but Ian feels him try and stops rolling his hips. 

"If there's something you want, ask for it," he says, his voice deep and quiet.

Mickey doesn't say anything. He pushes his hips up, looking for the pressure of Ian's weight to settle back down on him. After a minute of waiting for Mickey to say something, Ian shrugs. He doesn't go back to grinding down on Mickey. He wiggles down the bed until he is kneeling on the mattress beside Mickey's knees. He leans forward and presses a kiss to Mickey's thigh, just above the knee. He follows it with a kiss slightly higher, then another and another until he is at the edge of Mickey's underwear. Mickey is so hard, so desperate. He can feel the precome dripping off of him and knows that Ian can smell it. His mouth opens and closes slightly with his silent moans and Ian gets so close to where Mickey needs him. Then Ian moves to Mickey's other thigh and begins his kissing just above the knee again.

Mickey groans. "Oh, come on, don't be a fucking tease."

"If you want something, ask for it," Ian repeats. His tongue darts out to lick at the inside of Mickey's thigh before he moves up, passing over Mickey's straining cock and up to his stomach. He plants open-mouthed kisses along the band of Mickey's underwear. 

Mickey lowers his hands from where he's been holding them above his head. He captures Ian's head between his hands, letting his fingers run through Ian's hair. 

"Please," he whispers. "Please, please you have to touch me. Please just touch me."

Ian pulls down his underwear in a swift motion and tosses them to the ground. He pushes Mickey's legs apart and dips his head down between them. Mickey feels the hot swipe of Ian's tongue on his balls and his body tenses with the wave of pleasure that shoots through him. He clutches at Ian's hair, making him moan. Mickey feels the vibrations of the noise on his balls and he nearly comes. It's been so long since he's been with someone and Ian is so good.

"Turn over," Ian says roughly when he finally pulls away.

Mickey scrambles to do so, nearly kicking Ian in the face. When he's laying on his stomach, his hips hitched in the air, Ian kisses the back of his neck then lower and lower down his back along his spine. He bites at Mickey's ass cheek. A high pitched noise escapes him and Mickey blushes and presses his face into the pillow. He doesn't have much time to be embarrassed, because the next place that Ian puts his mouth is directly over Mickey's hole. His tongue laps at it, first in broad strokes and then more pointed thrusts deeper and deeper. He spreads Mickey's cheeks with his hands so he can push his tongue further in. Mickey pushes his ass into Ian's face, desperate for the sensations. He's moaning in earnest now, softly but undeniably moaning. 

Ian pulls his face away for a moment, but before Mickey can protest, he slips a finger into him. Mickey gasps. Ian pulls it back out almost immediately and Mickey hears him fumbling around for something on the desk next to his bed. Mickey looks over his shoulder to see Ian pulling a thing of lube out of a drawer. Ian is disheveled. His hair is a mess from Mickey's grasping fingers. His lips are puffier and pinker than before and his whole face shines like he got his spit spread all over it. Mickey can see the long line of his hard cock pushing against the tight shorts of his cop costume. 

Mickey gets on his knees and dips his head to lick at Ian's cock through his shorts. The smell of it makes Mickey lightheaded. He presses his face hard into Ian's crotch, trying to get that smell all over him. Ian moans and Mickey thinks he goes to grab Mickey's head before remembering that his hands are covered in lube. Without pulling his face away, Mickey undoes the button on Ian's shorts and opens them enough to pull his cock out.

It's longer than Mickey's and thicker too. Mickey's breath catches at the sight of it. The pink head is the same color as Ian's lips. He places a soft kiss on it before taking it into his mouth. He swipes his tongue over the tip. Ian jerks his hips slightly and he makes another aborted motion to grab Mickey's head. Mickey sucks gently, then not so gently, loving the taste and the heaviness of Ian's cock in his mouth. He presses forward, sliding his lips down the length of it, taking as much as he can into his mouth before pulling back up. He sucks again at the tip and brings his hand up to stroke the rest. He builds up a rhythm, maybe timing it to the beat of the party music that they can hear coming up through the floor. He drops his other hand onto his own cock, stroking and sucking and stroking in one rhythm. Ian drops his head so that it rest against Mickey's, breathing roughly into Mickey's ear.

Suddenly, he grabs Mickey's wrist, covering it in lube, and pulls his hand away from Ian's cock.

"I don't want to come like this. I want to fuck you," Ian breaths into his ear.

Mickey squeezes the base of his cock to stave off an orgasm. He meets Ian's eye and nods. He turns around and puts his hands on the mattress, on all fours with his ass to Ian. Ian pours out more lube onto his fingers, then presses them into Mickey. Mickey rocks forward with the pressure, then backwards onto Ian's fingers, driving them deeper into him. He loves the stretch and the burn of it. He loves the feel of his ass filled up. He loves this, he loves this.

"More," he says.

Ian puts another finger in and then another soon after that when Mickey asks him to. Mickey is pressing back and Ian is pressing forward. Mickey feels Ian's cock resting against his hip and he  _wants it in him_. He tries to tell Ian, but the words won't come, so he just fucks himself back as enthusiastically as he can onto Ian's finger and hopes he doesn't have to ask.

"Are you ready?" Ian asks.

" _Yes_." His voice is rough and almost sounds pre-pubescent in the way it breaks in a single syllable.

Ian fumbles around behind him again. Mickey hears him tear open a condom wrapper and slide the condom on. He hears Ian pour out more lube and slick himself up. Ian lines himself up and pushes in slowly but steadily all the way into Mickey, until his balls slap against Mickey's ass. 

He doesn't move immediately and Mickey is grateful. The feeling of being full up of cock, of having someone else pressed so deeply into him that he feels it all over himself is fucking great. He fucking loves this. 

Ian moves slowly at first, making shallow thrusts. Mickey moves his hips with Ian's thrusts, encouraging him. Ian speeds up and on one thrust manages to brush Mickey's prostate. Mickey moans and presses back. Ian finds it again on the next thrust and the next, sending shooting sparks of pleasure through Mickey's entire body. He comes shakes and gasping. Ian comes too, about a minute later.

Mickey collapses forward onto his stomach and Ian falls next to him. They lay there panting for a few minutes, not saying anything. 

"Want to do that again?" Ian asks.

"Can't, my sister is waiting to take me home," Mickey says.

"Some other time then?"

Mickey turns his head to look at Ian. He's sweaty and bright-eyed. His expression is neutral, but open and earnest. Mickey loves this.

"Yeah," Mickey says. "Whatever."


End file.
